


Nascency

by Cereus89



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cameos, Creature Harry, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:04:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8454640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cereus89/pseuds/Cereus89
Summary: Dying brings out a truth hiding in Harry out of dormancy and returning brings it with him.After Voldemort, Harry becomes something the Ministry feared even more. Lily Potter was a changeling- a faerie who chose to become human. 
Morgan le Fey has come to bring her progeny home.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm rusty. I haven't written in years and I haven't written fanfiction in a long time. So any constructive criticism is appreciated. I don't own any recognizable characters or plots, only my own. 
> 
> Please review.

Nascency, noun: birth, origin

It was aphotic in a cold, dank place with no light and a rancid smell. Occasionally the minute sound of straining metal links accompanied by the rattle of shallow breathing. Unseen, his eyes held an empty gaze. 

There was a voice but he was incapable of hearing the words at the moment. the recipient wasn't home. He probably wasn't even in the neighborhood.

There was a sigh and the voice said something before snapping what could have been fingers but the sound was... different, kind of like two hard, smooth objects had created friction. 

Slowly, awareness ate away the lingering fuzziness that veiled his thoughts as he came back to lucidity. His mind rang and he had trouble with coherent thoughts. Suddenly fragments of memory exploded and they slipped through his mind like a creek. Eventually, recollections started to fill the void between his ears. 

They had it a dam somewhere downstream and started to arrange themselves in the correct order. Before long the memories slowed down, solidifying into a concrete lifelong experience. Being a human brain the organ did its job and made early memories vague and distant, reconfiguring layers in the mind and its natural limitations that keep a person sane. 

Slowly, Harry Potter became fully awake. Having eyes in complete darkness was immediately ruled redundant. 

The first thing he noticed was that he was forced to remain upright. His arms were outstretched behind him and from the sound he had been put in chains. 

He rolled his head back to his shoulder and tried to clench his fingers. There was nothing where his hands should be. Not the radiating sensation of numbness or the feeling of pulling chains holding him upright and the shackles with him. He felt no upward strain in the muscles below his elbows, it was all in the tightness in his shoulders and the bite at the base of his spine, and everything below his knees was asleep. His throat throbbed something fierce. 

All his brain had was what he thought was the lingering sensation that follows touching something unimaginably hot and he could only wonder why. And just how had he gotten here. 

Here was probably in one of the school dungeons, far away from the festivities in the Main Hall.

Had some Deatheaters hid away in the castle and decided to snatch him when he had fell asleep? Were Ron and Hermoine safe or had the Deatheaters dispatched them too? He hated not knowing; worry began to gather in his veins but chose to shake his head. He needed out of here.

He made to stand and pulled on the chains with what strength he still had in his upper body. The process was slow work. Leaning back he tried to get his legs out from under him but discovered he wasn't able. He stopped when the clink of chains came from the floor beside his feet. 

They had locked him to the floor, too. 

In the pit of his stomach, a shiver of an old fear grew. One he hadn't felt in a long time. He tried to swallow it down. 

The Dursley's always blamed him for anything they hated. The occasional bad day at work. His grades being better than Dudley's. When their normal life went wrong, Harry was punished, locked in his cupboard for days. Hidden away because they were angry and embarrassed, and with only cobwebs and the occasional spider for company, a light under the door and an air vent peering out the side of bottom steps of the stairway -his one clear view to the outside. He grew used to it over time. 

But now he didn't have that certainty. Someone had put him here alone -wherever this Merlin forsaken place was- locked up and stashed away out of sight. Like someone's dirty secret. Despite everything he had been through in his life, that fear of being abandoned and forgotten in his days with his horrible relatives that had seemed so bearable back then. 

But that was then and this was now. He couldn't change the past. 

All he could do was keep trying. Who knows, maybe he wasn't completely bound to the floor. 

With leverage provided, he hoisted himself again. His legs didn't want to cooperate but if some pressure he pushed up and managed to get his wobbly legs under him and used The Chains helped kept him upright. 

When the prickling numbness disappeared he tested his movements. There was some slack in the chains to his arms now. There were no chains around his feet. 

Harry kicked around a bit, hoping to hear chains move but couldn't find any. Strange, harry thought to himself, he could have sworn he heard the clink of chains...

I'M SORRY, said a voice. ARE YOU LOOKING FOR SOMETHING? 

Harry slowly looked up. You couldn't ignore a voice like that. The quality of the voice would make most mortals shiver. It was a voice that wasn't so much heard with the ears but went straight to the brain. It implied that being six feet under in a cemetery was in your near future. 

He also had the nagging feeling that it sounded very much like Sir Christopher Lee. 

In the dark in front of him were two tiny, little blue stars. 

HELLO? Said the voice. IT'S ME. 

Harry tried to speak but only a raspy gurgle came out, hurting his throat. 

OH. MY BAD - I REALLY SHOULD HAVE REALIZED - YOU DID DO A LOT OF SCREAMING. 

And with that fingers snapped again; Harry's throat felt much better. 

A match was struck, but the light from the flame didn't bring comfort.

The clink of bones hitting stone walked over to his right and lit a torch. A tall figure in a black robe held together with a golden omega at the neck turned around. It was a little over two meters tall.

The skull wearing the cowl grinned, as only skulls can. Two little pricks of light shone from the empty eye sockets as the skeleton looked him over. 

Death had come for harry. At least harry thought it was death. Why else would a skeleton be walking upright? 

“Hello,” greeted Harry. Inwardly he cursed at the sound of his voice, it rasped with a panicked edge.“Can I help you?”

ER. Death looked a little uncomfortable himself. NO. NOT REALLY. I ONLY CAME BECAUSE I WAS CURIOUS. 

Okay, thought harry, this isn't what he expected. He thought that maybe death was here to take back the \hollows, or maybe it was time after all, but that didn't make as much sense. 

PEOPLE USUALLY ARE NOT HAPPY TO SEE ME. 

Harry refrained from saying that, no, he was not happy to see Death in, what appeared to be, one of Hogwarts dungeons. 

“There's nothing wrong with dying,” Harry said instead. 

I KNOW, agreed Death. IT COMES WITH THE JOB. IT IS JUST, AFTER SO MANY 'NEAR HARRY' EXPERIENCES, I ALWAYS WONDERED WHY. 

“Why, what?” 

WHY, YOU. 

“What?” asked \harrry incredulously. 

Death scowled. 

YOU WERE BEING SO POLITE, TOO, he said. I HAVE ALWAYS WONDERED WHY OYU SURVIVED THAT FIRST NIGHT 16 YERS AGO. 

Harry took this in and told Death what he knew. 

LOVE? AH. LOVE, Death nodded. A SACRIFICE MADE OUT OF TRUE LOVE. OLD STUFF. AND THE OTHER NIGHT? 

“He used my blood to resurrect himself,” said Harry. 

I KNOW. BUT WHY ARE YOU HERE? THAT IS MY QUESTION. 

“I choose to come back.”

WHY?

“I had to defeat Voldemort,” said \harry. “I didn't want anyone else to die because of me.” 

Death considered. He didn't seem satisfied with the answer but took it anyway. 

NO MATTER. I ALWAYS FIND OUT. 

“Are you here to take me? Am I going to die here?”

HM? NO. Death reached into the abyss of his robe and pulled out an hourglass and held it out to harry. It was in the middle of a metamorphosis. Plain brass was giving way to a solid, spiraling, crystalline substance. Like glass. The sand was mostly in the top and barely pouring down. THIS DOES NOT HAPPEN, he said. NOT TO THE TRULY HUMAN. 

“Hallows?” asked Harry. 

Death shrugged. KEEP THEM. THEY WERE NEVER MINE, Death said. He extinguished the torch. Harry only let out a pathetic blurb in protest. 

I AM SORRY, BUT I CAN NOT DIRECTLY HELP YOU. DON'T WORRY. YOU WON'T BE DYING ANYTIME SOON. The two blue stars watching Harry disappeared and he was left alone. 

In his stomach, Harry's emotions came to a slow roil. He had been left again. Rage trickled has he tried to stem the flow because losing his temper wouldn't help, but that only allowed a slowly pulsating fire to course through him. Harry's breathing became heavy and he wanted. 

He wanted to be able to feel his hands. 

He wanted to see. 

Pressure built up in his head as it pushed back on his brain before it abruptly vanished.

Harry gasped in surprise when an eerie, sickly green fire whisped into being, bringing a pale luminescence. Floating just over his head was a fire but it did not give heat, there was only the cold of the room. It had wettish air to breathe but nothing to burn. It was such a strange sight standing there in the air with the flames billowing upwards gracefully. 

Ghastly and beautiful, he couldn't take his eyes away, something about the flame drew him in. He could feel it beckon him as the very edges of his senses began to dim. All that mattered was the fire. It wanted him to follow. 

Harry hesitated. Something was all wrong. At first, he didn't know what it was; his resistance allowed some of his wits to return. A single thought popped up in the back of his mind. 

Fire didn't enchant people.

Harry sputtered and realization broke the spell. He recoiled down away from the flame, pulling on the chains, trying to get as far away as he could from the fire and his eyes clenched shut. After a moment he remembered how badly he had wanted light and now he had it. He opened his eyes. The floor met his gaze. It wasn't much. Weak light touched down on the small area around him. 

Without making eye contact, he rolled his eyes to the ceiling. The fire was still suspended above him,  
He had said no incantation. He didn't know one for a fire like this, lumos was the spell he'd normally use when he went marauding in the dark. 

His ears pricked at the sound of approaching footsteps and the green flame dispersed, leaving him alone in total darkness again. The steps were distant scratches of grainy friction, set on a straight course behind him, muffled by stone. Multiple people, three maybe. Were they coming to see him? Harry called out to get their attention but all he could get out was a hoarse gasping and his throat burned in retaliation. 

Breathing started to get hard again. A heavy, cold sensation collected in his chest and triggered a slow burning anger. 

He had already abused his vocal cords so much that he couldn't even call out for help. 

The steps grew loud enough till he could tell they were coming for him. They stopped only a couple of meters away. A minute meeting of old skeleton keys being brought out and dangled followed. A key was found, pushed into its lock at the bottom of the door and turned. The keys were withdrawn and the process was repeated at the top first then the middle. 

Three locks. 

As the door opened Harry wondered why they needed three locks. 

The light of two wands filled the room, blinding him, protecting three silhouettes.

**Author's Note:**

> Revised.


End file.
